


We're All Gonna Die

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Explicit Language, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-21
Updated: 2007-01-21
Packaged: 2018-10-01 09:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Harry just can't take it anymore. He finally snaps in a heated fit of rage, and who is there to console him? Well it wasn't who he expected. ONESHOT NOT SLASH





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**A/N: This is for a contest on Final Prophecy. It is a one shot, so please don’t ask for more. I already have enough fics to update. This isn’t Snape/Harry. It’s just bonding type stuff, I suppose. Not even that, really. Just read and find out.**

**Enjoy!**

We’re All Gonna Die 

Harry was fed up. Completely, ridiculously, and unbelievably fed up. He was fed up with his classes, fed up with his friends, fed up with Voldemort, fed up with his stupid title as the Boy Who Lived, fed up with Snape, fed up with Malfoy and his goons, fed up with Dumbledore’s expectations, fed up with his unwanted popularity, fed up with the Prophecy, and, most of all, fed up with his mashed potatoes.

“I’m fed up with these mashed potatoes,” Harry groaned quietly at his seat in the Great Hall.

His friends, chatting excitedly amongst themselves, didn’t seem to hear him. He frowned and sat down his fork, propping his head up on his hands.

He could hear thunder rumble outside and the enchanted ceiling was fogged over with rain clouds. Rain dripped from above, stopping midair and disappearing above their heads. It was a gloomy evening.

“Oi! Harry!” Ron poked the tired Gryffindor in the arm with his spoon.

“What is it Ron?” Harry mumbled, not bothering to look over at the redhead.

“When are we going to get Dumbledore’s Army back together?” Ron whispered discreetly through a mouthful of chicken.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry stated, picking his fork back up and poking his rejected mashed potatoes indolently.

“Why not?” Ron exclaimed, “We need to start training again!”

“Ron’s right,” Hermione chipped in, leaning forward so she could see past Ron. “We can’t wait any longer, Harry.”

“Why?” Harry responded dully, not ceasing his attack of the potatoes.

“Why?!” Ron choked on his chicken. “Voldemort, that’s why!” He looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard by the other chattering students. “We don’t stand a chance right now.”

“We’ll never stand a chance, Ron,” Harry stated bitterly. “You should have figured that out by now.”

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, her eyes wide, “Don’t say that! It’s vital that you have confidence in yourself.”

“And why is it “vital”?” Harry retorted, his voice getting deeper. “Because I’m the Boy Who Lived?” He asked sarcastically.

“Yes!” Hermione and Ron chorused.

“Harry,” Hermione said nervously, “Of course that’s why. We know you’re under a lot of stress, but you still need to focus. The prophecy said that you’re the only one to defeat Voldemort.”

“Bullshit,” Harry spat out through gritted teeth. Hermione winced and Ron looked taken aback. “I’m no more capable of killing him than I am acing a Potions assignment.”

“That isn’t true, mate,” Ron tried to sound convincing, but he was a bit rattled by his friend’s attitude. “We’ve seen what you can do. Don’t look down on yourself so much. I know you can do it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Harry questioned dangerously. “What if I don’t care?”

“You have to care!” Hermione squeaked. “Don’t you remember what he did to your parents; to you? How could you not care what happens to everyone?”

“I just don’t see why everyone sits on their ass and just watches me with all these bloody expectations!” Harry’s voice was rising. “Why do I have to be the savior? Why can’t someone else do it? I never asked to have Voldemort kill my parents. I DON’T SEE WHY I SHOULD BE EXPECTED TO SAVE THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD WHEN ALL I EVER DID WAS BE BORN!!!” Harry had stood violently from his seat, chest heaving and face red. The entire hall had gone silent and all eyes were turned on him. With one last angry grimace, he turn and fled the hall, leaving many shocked faces behind.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Severus Snape sat at the staff table, quietly nodding along as Professor Flitwick rambled on about something or another. He took a leisurely sip of his wine and sighed. It was time to go grade some papers. He’d had enough of this annoying socializing with fellow staff members. He rose from his seat and it scraped noisily across the stone floor, the sound barely audible above the murmur of the students’ voices.

“Off then, Severus?” Flitwick asked cheerily.

“Yes,” Severus nodded curtly. He glanced over to Dumbledore who was currently engrossed in a conversation with Hagrid, so he turned to McGonnagal, who was sitting right next to Flitwick enjoying her rice.

“Minerva, do tell Albus I’ll be off, if you don’t mind,” he straightened.

McGonnagal opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off as an angry shout filled the hall and everyone fell silent. The two teachers whirled towards the source, which was none other than Harry Potter himself.

“I DON’T SEE WHY I SHOULD BE EXPECTED TO SAVE THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD WHEN ALL I EVER DID WAS BE BORN!!!” the boy bellowed hoarsely, his voice full of a heated and exasperated anger. He stood there, fuming, for a moment, before turning and sprinting out of the hall. Needless to say, the hall could have heard a pin drop.

“Oh my,” McGonnagal said, staring after the furious teen in shock. “What in the world?”

Severus tilted his head upwards slightly and frowned. Strange. He hadn’t expected Potter to finally break. Even though he was a hotheaded brat, it wasn’t as if he had expected him to break down in the middle of supper.

“As I said,” Severus repeated, looking back down at the Head of Gryffindor. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Ye-yes,” McGonnagal stuttered, still thrown, and she pressed her fingers to her chest. “Of course, Severus. Good night.”

Severus nodded once more and picked up a brisk pace out of the room. He had to find Potter before he did something stupid.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Harry had run until his chest hurt and his throat throbbed. He was outside, and his clothes were soaked through. The rain had been pouring in torrents moments before, but now it was just trickling above him, landing with light splashes on his head and shoulders and running in rivulets down his water-speckled cheeks. He bent over and leaned on his knees, panting and out of breath. Looking over the sight before him, he realized that he had run all the way to the lake.

The water hit its surface in billions of drops. It looked as if the lake was sucking in the rain and it rippled magnificently and in such sharp detail. It was beautiful.

The sky had set the air around him a misty, dark blue, and Harry savored the feel of the wet night air surrounding him.

It was then that the shame hit him; right in the chest. He pulled his soaked robes tightly around himself and closed his eyes, the sound of the rain drowning out his own thoughts, but it didn’t wash away his embarrassment at what he had done. He’d thrown a fit like a child, and there was no taking it back. People going to have a heyday with this.

He took in a shuddering breath just as he heard the slosh of a footstep behind him. He spun around and his face contorted into a menacing snarl.

“What do you want?” Harry growled, glaring at the man before him.

Severus’s expression did not waver. It was blank and hard, undaunted by the boy’s obvious ire. “Foolish question,” he stated simply, pulling a wet lock of black hair out from in front of his eyes.

Harry felt his chest fill with anger at first, then, it dissipated. It was a foolish question. Snape was right. Harry hung his head. “It’s none of your business, Snape,” he said softly. “It’s not like you care.”

Instead of replying to Harry’s words, Severus acted as if he hadn’t heard the student and looked out at the glimmering surface of the lake. “When someone sets a goal for you that you never wanted to be set in the first place, it is difficult to ever reach it.” He said finally; cryptically.

Harry stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to think of this. Was Snape empathizing with him?

Severus didn’t wait for him to respond. “You should set your own goals,” he continued, looking as if he was talking to the rain and not Harry. “Trying to achieve something you never wanted for yourself is an impossible task. It can’t be done.” He tilted his head and looked Harry straight in the face.

Harry turned away and looked out across the grounds. “So you’re saying that I should just give up?” He murmured curiously, considering the option.

“Not at all,” Severus replied. “I’m merely saying that you should set your own expectations and not live by others’, Potter. If you do not desire to achieve something, you won’t achieve it. It’s as simple as that.”

Harry frowned and turned back to the Professor. “So you don’t think I can do it, then,” he said heatedly. “You think that I’ll fail.”

Severus stared for a very long time at Harry. Soon, the young Gryffindor began to grow uncomfortable, but he refused to be the one to turn away. It was silly and vain, but he was determined.

“No,” Severus said quietly. Harry had to strain his ears to hear him over the rain. “You’re the one who believes that, Potter.”

Harry shrunk back, his face aghast. “That’s not true!” he shouted, fury bubbling up within him. “Of course I think I can do it! I know I can do it!” He sliced a hand through the air vehemently.

“Then why the tantrum in the Great Hall?” Snape answered levelly. “For someone who is so confident in his abilities, Potter, you certainly don’t play the part.”

“Don’t play the part?!” Harry howled, incredulous. “I’ve fought Voldemort! I’ve battled Death Eaters! I’ve been chased by dragons! How the hell is that not playing the part?” His fist were clenched so tightly that his fingernails were leaving welts in his skin.

Snape replied just as quickly. “You never once did any of those things voluntarily. You were forced to. You never willingly took upon any of those tasks. They were thrust upon you and you either had to act or die. You never asked for any of it!” Snape looked almost pained as he said this, as if he felt that he was not only talking about Harry, but someone else from long ago.

“I know!” Harry screamed. “I know…” he repeated more quietly, his voice hoarse and rough. “I know.” He prayed that Snape would mistake his tears for rain. He was crying. He couldn’t help it. It was true. Everything Snape had said was true. His eyes stung against the unwanted tears and his twisted his head away, ashamed. “I can’t want any of it. All that’s in my future is death. No matter what I do, someone will have to die.”

“Is that what you fear, potter?” Severus asked, his dark brows knitting together. “Death?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t fear dying. That’s not what I’m afraid of.” Harry looked up at the Potions Master. “We’re all gonna die.”

“Then what is it?” Severus pressed, crossing his arms.

Harry frowned and looked back out at the lake. “What I fear, more than anything, is what it all comes down to. It’s the choice, not the death itself. I have to kill someone. I have to kill someone, and I’m only a kid. I have to kill someone…” He repeated himself as if it would make it less real somehow, but it had the opposite effect. He felt tears boiling up in his eyes again, but he forced them back.

“That “someone” is a monster, Potter,” Severus answered after a moment. “He’s not a person.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the thought of the man they spoke of and his obsidian eyes narrowed.

“He may be evil, Snape,” Harry said morbidly, “He may not have a soul, or a conscience, or anything good in him,” Harry looked down at his hand, watching the raindrops land on his palm. “But he’s human. He’s a man. And I’ll have to look at him and watch him die. And it will be by my hand. That’s what I’m scared of. That’s what I don’t understand. I’m petrified at the thought that I have to be a murderer. How can they expect me to do that?” He moaned and put his hands over his face.

“It’s not fair,” Severus said.

Harry lifted his head and looked up at the raven-haired man in surprise.

“It isn’t fair,” Severus repeated, looking down into Harry’s emerald eyes. “I know. How anyone can expect you to do it is beyond me. But you can. As you well know by now, I had more than a little bit of my hand in the fact that you are the Boy Who Lived. It’s my fault, essentially.” He sighed with remorse. “I heard the prophecy. I understand your destiny. The problem is, is that you need to understand it. You need to accept it. It’s not fair, but it is the way it is. You can not change your fate.”

Harry glared back into Severus’s eyes, denial coursing through his veins. “I know I can’t change it,” he growled, jaded beyond belief. “But just because I can’t change it, doesn’t mean I can do it. It doesn’t mean I’ll succeed.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Severus agreed. “The only thing that matters is that you want to succeed. If it’s not what you want, then by all means, walk away.”

“I can’t just walk away!” Harry scoffed, exhaling loudly in defiance.

“Yes you can,” Severus replied. “You’ve always been able to. It’s your future, Potter. It’s your choice.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he looked away, contemplating this. Was it really his choice? He could choose not to do it if he wanted to. He could walk away. Somehow, hearing those words made him a feel a bit more comfortable in his own skin. He shifted his shoulders.  
”I can?” he asked, not looking back at the older man.

“Of course.” Came the reply.

Harry felt a feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long time; control. It was mixed along with a bittersweet happiness. He swallowed and stared fervently at the ground. For once in his life, he felt like he had power over it. For this brief, unadulterated moment, he felt completely free of the shackles of the prophecy and Voldemort. For this tiny little glimpse of time, Harry didn’t feel so hopeless; and it was all because of those three words: _It’s your choice._

How simple a comfort can be sometimes. Just the idea of decision and control made him a little less tired and fed up with his life.

“So,” Severus broke the silence. “Will you walk away?”

They both straightened and looked at the lake as the rain beat drums down upon it. Harry slid his hands into his pockets and remained silent for a minute; maybe two or three. He didn’t know how long he stood there, looking through the darkness at the glowing water. The silence was endless and deep, as if they were surrounded by a cavernous pit of sound that thrummed in their ears and didn’t register in their minds. Then, Harry spoke. “No,” he said, his voice resolute. “I won’t walk away.”

Into the darkness and the rain, Severus Snape had a flicker of a smile, and that same smile flickered across the lips of Harry Potter as well.

And they stood there, smiling into the endless rain.


End file.
